A 4-time cancer survivor and geologist shares her story.

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Dear Kim Jong Il….

I know you’re upset that the EU-3 (and the US by proxy) are negotiating endlessly with Mr. Larijani, offering him all sorts of shiny things- from nuclear fuel to development aid to trade embargo reductions- while your nation remains strangled, isolated, and vilified. I know you want attention too, but you’re the leader of a nation, not a three-year-old, and throwing a nuclear tantrum will not get you what you want; it will get you a firm spanking from the international community.

I bet right now you’re probably a little nervous. Your neighbor down the block Mr. Roh Moo-hyun says its going to be “difficult” to play with you anymore. Even your ever-supportive uncles Mr. Jintao and Mr. Zemin who sneak you treats when nobody’s looking are “firmly opposed” to your “brazen action.” Worse yet, both Mr. Barrosa and Mr. Bush, the good-cop/ bad-cop surrogate parents of the international community, are quite aggravated. They want to take away all your toys and send you (and your people) to bed without any dinner for a long time. It seems the only one interested in providing you anything but tough, tough love at this point is your neighbor up the street Mr. Putin whose trying to talk Mr. Bush out of taking a switch to your back and “show restraint and patience” instead.

So here’s the deal little Kimmy: you’ve backed yourself into a bit of a corner with this one. You got Mom and Dad’s attention by toking up in front of them, but the only way they’re going to soften up on you from now on is if you give them your whole stash.

If you did this because you were so tired of sitting up in your room all alone, being grounded all the time, that you figured it was worth giving up all your vices just to be able to talk openly with your friends again… then you made the right choice. You have an awesome opportunity to dump all your toxic stuff, let everyone into your room and make sure its all gone, and eat steak for dinner.

But I’m not so sure that’s what you want. If you thought you could get Papa Bush to ante up the way he might have with Mr. Ahmadinejad by getting up in his face- then you sorely miscalculated this situation. You have nothing to offer your friends or neighbors. The only reason anyone cares at all about you is because you have the potential to wreak a lot of havoc, if you were ever to get pissed enough, with your million man collection of toy soldiers. At least Mahmoud’ s place has something good to offer everybody. And as long as he’s got what we want, we’ll play along more than with you. So don’t bother throwing a fit when people don’t treat you two as equals- you’re not.

So little Kimmy, I hope you’ve learned something from this. If nice Mr. Putin and your uncles can talk Mr. Bush out of beating the living daylights out of you, and you survive to have the opportunity to make more heinous mistakes like this in the future, then please remember: all you’re fighting for right now is survival. Suicidal actions are most antithetical to such an end.

Sincerely,

Amy

P.S. If you’re not Kim Jong Il, don’t bother reading this. I didn’t know how else to get in touch with him, and I’m bored at work.

———-This was written by my friend Amy Reed from Los Altos High School, and she’s the brightest blonde I know. She’s also quite scary – she dated my best friend Wyatt for 3 years or so (he’s been my best mate since kindergarden.)